


The Devil is in the Details

by supernutellastuff



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Crime Fighting, Daredevil AU, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Investigations, Love Triangle but not really, New York City, Reporter!Caroline, Romance, Superpowers, Vigilante!Klaus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-06-17 19:01:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15467931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernutellastuff/pseuds/supernutellastuff
Summary: Caroline Forbes is stuck writing fluff pieces for the Bulletin when all she wants to be is a crime reporter. A chance encounter with a vigilante on the streets of New York might just work in her favour.A Klaroline Daredevil AU! Now a multi-chapter fic!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Realynn8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Realynn8/gifts).



> For Realynn8,
> 
> Hope you like the gift! I had a lot of fun writing it :)
> 
> For those who may not know Daredevil, you don't need to watch the show to read this. Just know that he's a blind lawyer by day and beats up criminals using his super senses by night :P

The blank screen greets Caroline Forbes cheerfully. Words have never been this hard. _Come on_. The cursor blinks at her, frantic. _Dogs are cute, I can write about cute dogs_. She types a sentence, pauses, fiddles with the font size, and promptly slams her laptop shut. Caroline knows a lost cause when she sees one.

“Forbes! Where’s my dog shelter story?” asks Alaric as she’s shrugging on her coat.

“In your inbox, first thing tomorrow.” Caroline isn’t too worried about the self-appointed deadline. She knows that when she gets down to it, she’ll be able to bang out a piece about the new dog shelter and its fluffy residents in time.

Her editor regards the expression on her face. “What’s the matter? Not a fan of dogs?”

“No, nothing like that. Just that I would prefer writing about the biker gang rather than actual dogs,” she grins sheepishly.

“The Dogs of Hell haven’t done anything newsworthy in months. And even if they did, it would be none of your concern because the Bulletin has dedicated crime reporters.” He sends her a stern look over his glasses. “Something which I’ve told you a hundred times, Forbes.”

“I know, I know.” She sighs. “Had to try, at least.”

“There’s that hope and optimism I need in the Human Interest sections.”

“Pointless Fluff, you mean.”

“Call it whatever you wish, I want to see that piece before my morning coffee.”

“Yes, boss.” She shoots him a mock salute and makes her way out of the office. It’s been two years since she’s moved to the city and she’s nowhere as close to becoming a crime reporter as when she’d first started her job at the New York Bulletin. The rational part of Caroline knows that she shouldn’t expect the crime beat this soon in her career, but behind that part is a young girl who’d dreamed of being an investigative journalist ever since she watched _All the President’s Men_. That girl refuses to wait any longer.

A more-than-passing interest in crime had led to a more-than-casual interest in the Daredevil. She’d first come across him on a blog post accompanied by a grainy photograph of a man in a mask. The blogger claimed he’d seen the man beating up a would-be mugger in an alleyway. There were a couple of more incidents of the man wearing a devil’s mask (as a particularly high definition picture revealed) stopping petty thieves and small-time criminals.  Initially, Caroline had dismissed it as a passing fad. Costumed freaks were a dime a dozen these days, all vying to be the next superhero. But there was something different about this vigilante. As the months passed, two things became clear. One, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen steadfastly remained a street-level operative. Two, he definitely had _powers_. Not only was he an expert fighter, eyewitnesses swore he could see in the dark and dodge bullets with ease.

For all her fascination with Daredevil, Caroline couldn’t help thinking that his efficiency in cleaning up the streets was affecting her job. Criminals were afraid of this dangerous costumed vigilante and with crime rates going down, Caroline was worried she might never get promoted if there was nothing left to report. Lexi had told her that she was overreacting; journalists would be around as long as human beings valued truth. But Lexi had her own radio show; she wouldn’t understand the kind of mind-numbing and mediocre writing that lay in Caroline’s future if things didn’t go according to plan.

 _Oh, shit_. Caroline was supposed to meet Lexi for drinks after work. She pauses mid-stride, takes quick stock of her bearings and changes her direction, towards Greta’s.

The bar is still the same. Dim lights, grubby pool tables, undrinkable water, stale peanuts and Greta herself, who never has a kind word for anyone. Caroline enters and immediately feels at home.

Lexi texts that she’s running late so Caroline decides to get herself a drink in the meantime. At the bar, it takes longer than usual to get Greta’s attention.

“She’s pissed-off tonight, well, when is she not? But this guy stuck a knife into his friend earlier. Over a girl. Poor Greta had to clean up the blood.”

The speaker is a man in a suit, dark hair slicked back, a friendly smile on his long face.

“Stefan Salvatore.”

“Caroline Forbes,” she says, shaking his hand. “So how long have you been standing here, Stefan?”

“Mm, long enough for me to reconsider ever finding this place.”

“Hey, that drink with the eel isn’t bad. Plus I feel like this is one of the few places left in New York that is _really_ New York, you know?”

“Hah, you sound just like Klaus.”

“Klaus?”

“Klaus. Best friend and partner-in-crime,” says Stefan, pointing towards a man with dark blond hair sitting a few tables away. He’s wearing dark round glasses. “Salvatore and Mikaelson, lawyers for hire.”

Caroline thumps the bar in excitement. “ _You’re_ Salvatore and Mikaelson!”

He is taken aback. “You know us?”

“Of course. I followed the Silas case closely. Stellar work.”

Stefan bows. “Why, thank you. If only our fame had translated into paying clients.” They finally attract Greta’s attention and order their drinks; Stefan, two beers, and Caroline, whiskey on the rocks.

“Hey, if you’re waiting for someone, you can sit with us for a bit.”

“Well-”

“Come on, Klaus won’t believe we have a fan.”

Caroline smiles. “Sure, why not.”

They wend their way through the tables to where Klaus is seated. He’s leaning back on his chair, arms splayed, head tilted towards the right. A white cane rests next to him.

“Klaus, this is Caroline Forbes,” says Stefan, drawing up a chair for her. “Caroline, this is Klaus Mikaelson.”

“Hello, Caroline,” greets Klaus, smiling. He has dimples, which strikes her as incongruous.

She sticks out her hand to shake before remembering that he can’t see her. Flustered, she drops into her seat. Stefan politely pretends not to notice.

“So, what do you do, Caroline?”

“I’m a reporter. With the New York Bulletin.”

“What are you working on currently?” asks Klaus.

“Society pieces, nothing but fluff.” She waves a hand. “I _want_ to report crime, but I feel like Daredevil is gonna put me out of my job,” she jokes.

“You think he’s _that_ good?” asks Stefan with a side-eyed glance at his friend.

“Well, sure. He single-handedly brought down that Irish gang.”

Klaus leans forward, intent. “Don’t you think it’s wrong he’s taking the law into his own hands?”

“You feel that way because you’re a lawyer. But sometimes the law fails. Sometimes the bad guys get away.” She shrugs. “I’ve spoken to the people he’s saved from muggers and rapists. They’re not complaining.”

“You’ve been tracking him?” He looks surprised.

“Not actively. I mean, I’m nowhere close to finding out who he is.”

“I’m sure you’re very close,” says Klaus. “You don’t seem like the type who gives up easy.” His lips curve slowly upwards and _holy hell_. Is he flirting with her? Caroline blushes.

Luckily, she’s saved from replying by the arrival of Lexi. The frowning blonde stands at the entrance, scanning the bar from end to end. Caroline puts up her hand to get her attention and turns to the lawyers. “Hey, my friend’s here. Thanks for giving me company.”

They nod back at her. Stefan wishes her luck for the fluff pieces.

On her way to Lexi, she catches snippets of their conversation.

_“I just don’t know how you do it, Klaus. You somehow always pick the beautiful ones.”_

_“What do you mean? You were the one who invited her.”_

_“And you were the one who started hitting on her.”_

Caroline bites her lip, grinning. Maybe Alaric would her let interview Salvatore & Mikaelson: Legal Heroes…

“Thank god,” says Lexi. “I thought you’d left already.” They hug. Caroline senses eyes on them; with their blonde hair and similar builds, they could almost be sisters.

Caroline settles on a booth a few tables down from the lawyers while Lexi gets them fresh drinks. They make idle chitchat about their work and personal lives (non-existent in Caroline’s case). It’s only after the second round that Caroline tells her about the news that’s been occupying her mind.

“So you know that pharmacy on 59th Street I’m looking into?”

“The one that’s a front for drug smuggling?”

“Yes, but now they’re turning to human trafficking. And I know this, because…” She lowered her voice. “I may have a lead on the guy supplying them with weapons.”

Lexi raises her brows. “That’s good, Care. When are you going to the cops?”

“Soon.” Caroline sips her drink. “I just need more proof.”

“You’re going to do something stupid, aren’t you?”

Caroline grins and pats her purse. “I’ll be fine.”

Shaking her head fondly, Lexi excuses herself to the bathroom. Despite what the grimy table tops might have conveyed, Greta actually keeps the washrooms spuriously clean. As Lexi’s heels click away on the wooden floor, Caroline tunes out the hubbub of the boisterous, tattooed crowd. She shifts her angle so that the lawyers come in her view. Stefan is scrolling through his phone, a small smile on his face. Klaus is utterly still, except for his fingers which are idly toying with the label on his beer bottle. His eyes, hidden behind red-tinted glasses, are directed unnervingly at her.

* * *

Lexi would be pissed if she could see her now, waiting all by herself at an abandoned construction project in the middle of the night. But it’s not like Caroline had promised her or anything. It’s imperative Caroline get proof of the activities of the trafficking ring. She needs to finish writing an investigative piece that hopefully Alaric deems publishable. It’s taken weeks of work to track down Kai, the arms guy, and get him to talk to her. So as soon as Lexi had bounced, Caroline had chugged down two glasses of water and jumped into a cab.

Caroline taps her foot impatiently. The Hudson laps noisily at the concrete shores of the building site. It’s certainly an eerie meeting point, but she hadn’t exactly expected him to choose Starbucks at noon.

Twin headlights pierce through the gloom. Caroline tenses, her hand creeping towards her purse. A navy blue car that has seen better days, slowly trundles into the lot. A pale face sticks out the driver’s window. “I’m surprised you’re here, blondie.” Kai.

Caroline relaxes. “Well, you asked me to.” She walks towards the car.

“Didn’t think you’d actually turn up.” The sharp click of the door echoes in the night. Kai saunters towards the back of the car, hands in his pockets. Bracing his hands on the trunk, he blatantly looks her up and down. “Lookin’ fine tonight, darling.”

 _Ugh_. She smiles through clenched teeth.

Kai pops open the lid with a flourish. Caroline peers inside. The trunk is filled with guns—pistols, rifles, automatics. All unlicensed, all illegal.

“Which one catches your fancy? This one, perhaps?” He holds up a small, pearl-handled pistol. “A pretty gun for a pretty lady.” It is indeed appealing to look at—it shines under the orange sodium light—but also quite useless for actual defence.

Caroline points to the Glock 17. “What about that one?”

“Not a bad choice.”

She weighs a couple other models in her hand, pretending to mull over her purchase, while making idle chitchat with Kai.

“It’s so hard to choose, you keep so many of them,” she says, scratching her head ruefully. “You must be supplying larger groups too, right?”

Kai narrows his eyes. “It’s only been individuals like you, who don’t want to do all the paperwork.”

“Really?” she says casually, inspecting the barrel of a revolver. “I mean, I thought you were in the big leagues.”

He bristles at that. “Of _course_ I’m in the big leagues,” he huffs. “Just got a huge order.”

Her ears perk up. “Ooh, is it the Mafia? I loved Al Pacino in that movie.”

Kai rolls his eyes in disgust. “It’s not the Mafia, _obviously_ ,” he says, as if to an idiot child. “It’s all Eastern European now. Ukrainians.”

 _Bingo_. The drug smugglers were Ukrainians. “They’re so intimidating, what do they even need guns for?”

He opens his mouth. Stops. Stares at her beadily. “Why are you so interested?”

Caroline gulps. Perhaps she’s been laying on the dumb blonde shtick too thickly. “No reason. It’s just that you live such an exciting life. I’ll take this one.”

Kai doesn’t move to take the gun from her. “Who are you, a cop?”

“Of course not. Do I _look_ like a cop?” Genuine outrage shades her statement.

“Then why are you asking so many questions about the Ukrainians?” Quick as a flash, a knife appears in his hand, its silver blade gleaming wickedly. _Fuck_. Caroline immediately points the gun already in her hand. “Stay back.”

Kai walks towards her, unconcerned. “You know, I can take you to them. You’ll be able to experience first-hand what they’re up to.”

“Stay back,” she repeats, voice firm.

He laughs nastily. “You really think I drive around with loaded guns in my trunk?”

Sure enough, when Caroline squeezes the trigger, there’s only an empty click.

“Good thing I have this then.” The Llama .380 appears in her hand, now trained unerringly at Kai. He falters for a moment at the sight of the trusty weapon she’d pulled out from her purse.

“Do you even know how to use that, blondie?” he scoffs.

Caroline smirks. “You want to try me?”

In reply, he hurls the knife at her.

She fires, but the spinning blade had distracted her. Kai ducks behind his car. She twists, and just about manages to dodge the blade. His aim was true. The knife clatters to the ground.

Caroline curses. Then the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. For Kai is now slowly rising, clutching a sawed off shotgun and grinning. “Now _this_ one, lovely, this one is loaded. Do you want to find out?”

She never does. For at that exact moment, a dark figure drops down from above, straight on top of Kai. The arms supplier screams, the shotgun forcefully wrenched away from him.

Caroline hurries towards the sound. Kai escapes from the grasp of the unknown assailant and legs it. The figure pursues him into the shadows on impossibly silent feet. Kai pivots sharply, another knife in his hand, and slashes. The figure dodges with ease. Caroline watches, open-mouthed, as Kai’s stabs and punches land on nothing but air. It’s like the dark figure knows where the blows are coming from. Finally, he catches Kai’s arm and twists and twists, forcing him to drop the blade. A kick and an elbow to the head, and Kai slumps to the ground, unconscious.

Her saviour straightens up. He’s wearing smooth armour of a red so deep it looks black. The top half of his face is hidden with a mask ending in tiny, crimson horns. Daredevil.

Caroline gasps.

“Are you okay?” His voice is deep, carefully modulated. His gloved fingers lightly trace her arm where Kai’s blade had grazed it. The feel of cool leather on bare skin makes her shiver.

“Just a scratch.” Now that the shock has worn off, Caroline finds she is quite irritated. “I had it, you know,” she says, jamming her gun back in her purse.

“You did. But a little extra help never hurts.”

“I didn’t know Daredevil was so _sardonic_.”

“You do now, Miss…?”

He did get her out of a life-threatening situation. He deserves her name. “Call me Caroline.”

“Caroline.” The corners of his lips turn up. There’s something familiar about the way he says her name…

He catches her staring critically at the angles of his face, the stubble, his mouth, and turns away hastily. “What were you doing here?”

“I’m a reporter. I was doing my job.”

Daredevil picks up an unconscious Kai and heaves him onto his shoulder. “Well, next time I suggest you call the cops.”

Caroline grits her teeth. “I can’t trust the cops, okay! They’re all in the Ukrainians’ pockets.”

“Not all. I’m gift-wrapping this one and giving him to the one of the good cops I know.” He inclines his head. “Goodbye.”

“Wait!”

Daredevil pauses.

“I want to make a bargain.”

The vigilante drops Kai unceremoniously to the ground and turns his full attention to her. “You want to make a deal with the devil?” He smirks.

“ _Funny_. Listen, we can help each other. Let me tell you everything I know about the Ukrainians. You take them down, deliver them to the police. I get the scoop and get to impress my boss. Sounds good?” She stares up at him with beseeching eyes.

Daredevil exhales in exasperation. Then, to her surprise, he agrees. “It’s a deal.”

“Great.” She scrabbles in her purse for a pen. He stops her.

“No need. I’ll find you.”

“Creepy. But okay.”

He lifts Kai up again like a sack of potatoes. “Until then, Caroline,” he says with a grin that sends heat coiling in her gut.

She watches him disappear into the darkness with a faint smile. She has an article to write.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After successfully taking down a gang of human traffickers, Caroline makes another bargain with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I had so much fun writing the first part, and the reviews were encouraging, I've decided to convert this into a multi-chapter fic! There should be two-three chapters more. This one is a little plot-heavy with multiple POVs (including Klaus, although Caroline will be our main one). I am not a lawyer, neither do I live in New York so please excuse any mistakes. Enjoy :D

Her apartment's shitty—not that Caroline has many options on a reporter's salary—but it has a tiny balcony and on days like this that more than makes up for living in this smelly, crime-ridden neighbourhood. Caroline braces her elbows against the railing, enjoying the rare evening breeze. It takes two tries to get the lighter flickering but she finally manages to get her cigarette lit. She was technically supposed to have quit, but she figures she deserves one after her success.

The Ukrainian gang had been busted courtesy the coordinated efforts of Caroline and a certain devil-horned vigilante. She had written up an investigative piece detailing their human trafficking ventures for the Bulletin, while Daredevil had gone after the gang members themselves, finally dropping their leader, all tied up with a bow, at the cops' doorstep. Caroline had no clue how he managed to do this single-handedly but then again, there was something special about him. She'd seen it with her own eyes when he'd rescued her from Kai, the sleazy arms dealer.

Caroline inhales, savouring the nicotine burn. Her eyes adjust to the dim light and all of a sudden, she realises someone's on the balcony with her.

"I hate it when you do that," she grumbles, not turning her head.

A low chuckle greets her. 

"You know I was just thinking about you," she says, absently tapping out the ash in a flowerpot.  _Yikes_. The long-dead plant had been a gift from Lexi. She mentally apologizes to it.

"Oh, were you?" He steps closer. She feels his eyes tracing the movement of her throat while she takes a languid drag.

"Just wondering if you’ll go back to your usual patrols now that the Ukrainians are in jail. Mrs. Fell downstairs was almost mugged last night, you know. You’re slacking.” Caroline faces him, a slight grin playing on her lips.

“I was _busy_.”

“Not busy enough to be scaring girls half to death on their balconies, apparently. What are you doing here? Article’s been published. Valigura is behind bars.”

“Actually, I have another proposal for you,” says Daredevil in his deep voice. It’s obvious he puts on an affect because there have been times Caroline has almost caught it slipping; but real or not, his voice, especially paired with the way he cocks his head, is oddly compelling.

“I’m listening.” She grounds her cigarette and crosses her arms.

“Valigura and his crew left behind a vacuum. The Japanese have stepped up. Drugs, obviously, but they’re planning on escalating to something much, much bigger. I’m trying to find out what, and to stop them before they can.”

“And you want my help?”

“Just like last time. I get to keep the neighbourhood safe, you get the by-line.” There’s that flash of a smirk again. Caroline’s tempted to agree immediately. But. As much fun it was exchanging bits of intel and incriminating photographs with the vigilante, it was Daredevil who’d set the terms. It was him who always contacted her—whether she was at her house or out on the streets—dropping down from the sky like a silent angel. It was he who controlled the flow of information.

Caroline takes her time answering. He stands absolutely still besides her, betraying no visible signs of impatience.

“Okay. But on one condition. After we’re done, I get to interview Daredevil for the Bulletin.”

She can’t make out his expression but if the stiffening of his body is any indication, he is completely taken aback. He tugs at the collar of his suit. Caroline’s face is carefully, totally blank—inside she’s fervently hoping he agrees. She’s upped the ante of their deal but the fact is she needs him more than he needs her. Alaric loved her expose on the Ukrainians but one article isn’t enough for a promotion. That’s just not how print media work. She’s expected to prove herself consistently if she wants to be a serious journalist.

“Why?” is what he asks.

“Because you’re putting yourself out on the streets every night, doing a thankless job no one asked you to. And I- the readers want to know _why_. They want to know about the man behind the mask. Not literally, obviously,” she adds, sensing his hesitation. “I mean, it’s fine that I don’t know who you actually are. I’m not gonna pry.” _Yet_.

Daredevil nods. “It’s a bargain.” He sticks out his hand. Caroline takes it, feeling the gentle pressure of his fingers. Impulsively, she flips his hand over and runs her tips over the expensive leather, examining the skillful stitching.

“Did you do all this on your own?”

He snatches his hand back. “I have a guy,” he replies gruffly. And Daredevil disappears the way he’d arrived, a warm shadow in the night.

* * *

 

The daily four floor trek is a small price to pay for the absurdly low rent their landlord charged, reasons Stefan. However he’s not so reasonable on days like today, with mercury on the rise and a broken down air-conditioner. Cursing, he collapses onto his chair and mops his brow with his tie, shooting a dirty look at the AC unit.

“We needed a printer more,” reminds Klaus from his office. Stefan sighs. Every day at Salvatore and Mikaelson is a choice; from the choice between a sleazy paying client and a needy one who can only compensate them with fruit, to the choice between a functioning printer and an AC. Stefan is sick of these choices. True, he’d never expected life as lawyers representing the underdogs of New York to be glamorous, but the least he’d expected was better paying work coming their way after Silas. Instead, they’d gotten even more clients, like the poor Mrs. Cardenas, unable to afford attorney fees but always ready with hampers of home-cooked food. He glances at the platter of strawberry rhubarb pie left by a grateful client and feels an unexpected swell in his heart. _Choices, choices_. Stefan picks up his phone and calls the father of a young client they’d helped in a stalking issue. The handyman is glad to hear from him, and after listening to Stefan’s request, assures him that he’d come in later to fix the air-conditioner free of charge. _Choices, choices_. Stefan leans back on his chair and feels contentment settle inside him.

Klaus passes in front of Stefan on the way to the copier. He doesn’t bother with the whole cane routine since it’s just the two of them. Stefan never ceases to marvel at the ease with which he moves, the fluid grace in his limbs.

“Hey, Stefan, do we have the rent agreement documents for that illegal eviction case?”

Stefan rifles through the files stacked messily on his desk. “Um, no. Apparently Eliot hasn’t send them yet.”

His friend furrows his brows. “We’ll have to pay him a visit.”

“Great.” Stefan sighs. Don’t get him wrong, he loves his clients, would spend every waking hour helping them--he already does. But sometimes they take little things for granted—such as the timely submission of required documentation. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s had to personally chase down clients and remind them to sign a statement. “Well, it was getting stuffy inside anyway.”

The outside is no better. Heat shimmers off the concrete pavement as the two lawyers trek towards the apartment Eliot Parker has been renting for years and is now in danger of being evicted from. Raised voices and scuffles are heard around them, tempers fraying due to the rising temperature. Klaus absorbs the volatile atmosphere in his usual infallible way. His fists are clenched.

“Guess it’s going to be a busy night for Daredevil,” remarks Stefan.

“It usually is.”

“Be careful.” He’s said it a million times but the words still automatically tumble from his mouth. While Stefan has made reluctant peace with his best friend’s night-time activities, that hasn’t stopped him from worrying like crazy whenever Klaus dons the devil-horned helmet.

Eliot Parker, it turns out, is not at home. Stefan, seeing the rest of his day being consumed in the pursuit of their recalcitrant client, groans heavily. A neighbour pokes her sullen face out of her door. The smell of cooking cabbage escapes from behind her.

“Hello, do you know where Eliot’s gone?” asks Stefan politely.

She chews her gum loudly and snaps, “Who’s asking?”

“We’re his lawyers.”

Some coaxing later, and the neighbour finally reveals that Eliot Parker’s at his aunt’s house. Stefan glances at Klaus, who’d been listening intently to her heartbeat. He nods briefly. She’s telling the truth.

“It’s so convenient having a human lie detector around,” jokes Stefan once they’re out of the dingy apartment block.

Klaus is still frowning. “Eliot’s aunt—Mrs. Fell—she lives in Caroline’s building.”

“Oh. I see. It’s okay, I’ll take it from here, Klaus. You can go back to the office-”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll come with you.”

Stefan blinks. “Are you sure? I mean the more Daredevil works with Caroline Forbes, the more chances she might recognise you. Maybe Klaus Mikaelson should stay away from her.”

But Klaus’s jaw is set in a familiar stubborn way, and Stefan knows it's no use arguing. “It’ll be fine,” Klaus repeats. “She’s probably at work. Now that we’re out, let’s just finish the job.”

Naturally, they run into Caroline on their way down.

She’s rushing down the stairs, bits of blonde hair escaping her ponytail, a bunch of papers clutched tightly in her arms. She turns around to see them on the landing and stops short.

“Oh, hey, Caroline,” says Stefan, in what he hopes is a casual voice. “Didn’t know you live here.” Behind him, Klaus is annoyingly silent.

“Yeah, I was just picking up some files I needed.” Her eyes narrow. “What are _you_ doing here?”

“Illegal eviction case. We just spoke to our client, Eliot Parker,” replies Stefan. “Had to take care of some paperwork.”

Her expression clears. “Ah, yes. That’s Mrs. Fell’s nephew. Nice boy, somewhat flaky. She loves him to bits, perhaps to the point of overprotectiveness. She didn’t even tell him about the letters-”

“Letters? What letters?” Klaus interrupts.

She adjusts the files in her hands, straightening them out in a neat stack. “Oh, of course, you don’t know about them because she refused to worry Eliot. They sent her letters about Eliot and his “errant behaviour”, filled with bullshit jargon, but also _vaguely_ threatening, you know.”

Caroline glances at the building exit and checks her watch, biting her lip. “Look, I’d asked Mrs. Fell if I could take a look at the letters. I kept copies. Have at them. I’ll tell my editor I’ll work from home for the rest of the day.”

Klaus taps his cane once, twice on the cheap wooden flooring. “Thank you, Caroline. If it’s not too much of a bother.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if it had been a bother.” But Stefan notices her smiling, no doubt charmed by his friend’s politeness.

He lets Klaus takes his arm as they make their way up the flight of stairs towards Caroline’s apartment. “Look out for the sixth step, it’s broken,” she calls out. Klaus, who’d sensed the warped wood, had already skipped the step. It’s Stefan who almost stumbles.

* * *

 

It’s not often that Caroline invites people to her apartment. It’s cramped but she’s done her best to enliven the space with pops of colour and personal touches. She’s especially proud of the bookcase dominating the living room, stacked to the brim with non-fictional tomes and paperbacks. She wonders what the lawyers think of her place.

She invites them to make themselves comfortable on the couch, offers them water like a good hostess, and heads into her bedroom to look for the letters. Her room’s a mess from today’s early morning beat-the-alarm-clock rush; Caroline sweeps aside a pile of discarded clothes off a chair to retrieve the folder wedged under the cushion. She returns to the living room to find Klaus’s head turned towards the balcony, his dirty blonde hair lifting in the breeze.

“You should shut your balcony door,” he says. “Anyone can enter your flat that way.”

“I think I’m too high up to climb,” she replies easily.

“You’ll be surprised how easy it is.”

Well, _Daredevil_ had made it look easy, but Daredevil was far from an ordinary human. All the same, Caroline decides to take the piece of well-intentioned advice, however random, as it is and refrains from mentioning to the lawyers that she’s been fraternising with the vigilante.

Stefan clears his throat. “The letters, Caroline?”

The two of them peruse the notices, heads bent together. Caroline sips her water, watching as Klaus feels the quality of the paper and runs his fingers over the embossed logo. Stefan reads its contents aloud.

“This is not exactly illegal,” admits Klaus after they’re done. “But definitely unorthodox. This might appear to be a concerned notice to the relative of an irresponsible tenant, but the implied threat is clear enough.”

“Wesley & Smith Constructions. I’m assuming it’s the same company that’s been doing repairs to Eliot’s building?” asks Caroline.

Stefan nods. “It’s a key aspect of the case. They’ve left the work halfway, citing ‘obstruction’ by the residents. And now they’ve been sending notices to the relatives about tenants’ ‘negligent’ behaviour? It’s all a ploy to force them out of the building.”

“You mean the landlord and these construction people are in on this together?”

“Seems so. The landlord’s been messing with their water, electricity. Just generally making life a nuisance for them.” Klaus’s voice is calm but he almost crumbles the letter in his hand.

“Who owns the building, anyway?”

“Pearsons Holdings.”

Caroline shoots up. “Are you kidding me?!” She fishes out her phone from her pocket, ignoring the bemused expressions on the lawyers’ faces, and rapidly scrolls through her saved documents. “Okay. So I’d done some digging earlier. Wesley & Smith is owned by a shell company, owned by another shell company, owned by—get this—Pearsons Holdings.” She brings up the pertinent record and turns the screen towards Stefan. “Which proves your theory. Pearsons, in turn, is owned by another string of shell companies. All leading to…Midland Circle.”

Stefan examines the deed, frowning. Beside him, Klaus’s head snaps upwards. “Midland, did you say?”

“You know them?”

 Klaus shakes his head. “All I know is that they’re a new player in town.”

“Maybe in their Midland avatar. But they’ve clearly been around for a long, long time,” points out Caroline. Klaus doesn’t reply. His forehead is creased, his lips pursed—he seems to be calculating something.

“So…what are you going to do about it?” she asks after a lengthy pause.

“Midland wants the property, and they’re using shady means to get it. They’re looking to expand their holdings.”

“Which means we may have a bigger case on our hands,” adds Stefan.

“And that involves probing the case through _other_ means.” Klaus arches an eyebrow. Stefan stares at him for a long moment and sighs. “You’re right.”

“Okay then.” Caroline glances between the two, feeling completely out of the loop and disliking it. “Glad to be of help.” The words come out snappier than intended.

Klaus turns towards her, his red glasses flashing. “Thank you, Caroline. You’ve given us a solid lead.” His mouth stretches into a slow, charming smile. Caroline focuses on collecting the used glasses on the table. “Yeah, no problem,” she mutters.

She’s seeing them out, one hand clutching the door, when Klaus pivots back. “And hey, Caroline. These guys are organised, which makes them dangerous.”

“What?”

“I know you’re going to look into it. Just…be careful.”

“I will.”

“Great. Bump into you at Greta’s someday?”

“Sure, maybe.”

* * *

 

Caroline pumps her arm up and down frantically but the taxi speeds past her. It’s empty. She yells at its blinking cowardly back. Sighing, Caroline eyes the deserted road that’ll take her back home. Probably not the best idea to walk in this area in the middle of the night. But her heels are killing her and she’s functioning on three hours of sleep. Anyway, she’s in Hell’s Kitchen—if anything happens, Daredevil would be there, right? At least _this_ way she’d get to meet him. Thinking longingly of her comfortable bed, she begins walking.

It’s been weeks since she’s seen Daredevil. It’s not as if Caroline is striking off the days on her calendar or anything. In fact, she’d been busy with the Midland case and the can of worms Klaus and Stefan had opened in her apartment that day. When she wasn’t submitting her usual quota of banality to Alaric, Caroline was looking up everything she could about Midland Circle—of which there was a big fat deal of nothing. _Nada_. There was something definitely off about them, but for all intents and purpose, they appeared to be nothing more than a generic corporation. She’d even called Stefan once—he’d left his number with Mrs. Fell—he’d been warm, but evasive. She gets it, they’re working on an active case and probably don’t want to share their findings with a reporter. Which is _slightly_ annoying because they wouldn’t even have been onto Midland if not for her. Whatever. If Caroline avoided Greta’s like the plague after that, well, that was between her and her petty self.

Hitting the umpteenth dead-end had finally reminded Caroline of her deal with the Devil. _Wasn’t there something about a Japanese gang?_ They were still very much active, if you counted the minor drug-related crimes sprouting up lately. Some had been foiled by Daredevil himself. The vigilante had been after the bigger picture, that much was clear, but why hadn’t he contacted her yet? It wasn’t like Daredevil to renege on his promise.

A part of her wants to laugh. Since when did she start putting her trust in a violent man who puts on a mask to beat up lowlifes? Another insecure part of her is seething. Maybe Daredevil doesn’t find her useful anymore. Who is she but a dumb reporter writing societal fluff for a newspaper long past its prime? Perhaps she wasn’t cut out for the whole crime investigator shtick. She’s stupid blonde Caroline Forbes, who should never have moved to New York-

Caroline gasps. There’s an alley to her right and from around the corner she can sense movement. Pained groans and the rhythmic _thwack_ of someone being pummelled bounce off the bricks. _Great_. It’s just her luck to walk into a gang fight in the middle of nowhere. Caroline figures she’ll sneak away before either of the party notices her. And she’s about to do so when she realises it’s not a random turf war. It’s Daredevil beating the shit out of a man.

She peeks round the curve, fascinated, watching the Devil manoeuvre the thug into a headlock and bend his arm until it breaks with an audible snap. Another man she hadn’t previously noticed, attempts to attacks the vigilante from behind. Caroline is about to utter a warning cry, but Daredevil is far ahead of her. It’s like he has eyes at the back of his head. He spins around and fells the man with a brutal kick. His punches rain without mercy, his breath staggers in harsh rasps, and when the clouds shift, the moonlight illuminates the vicious smile on his face. Caroline’s heart rate starts climbing in response. It’s like Daredevil is actually…enjoying the violence.

Suddenly, his head jerks up. He’s staring directly at her. Caroline stumbles.

Daredevil casts a glance at the two, now unconscious, men. Then he’s stalking towards her and it’s all she can do not to cringe. For the first time, Caroline senses the danger emanating from his pores. She understands why criminals are afraid of him.

“Miss Forbes.” His voice is low, rough. He catches her upper arm in a firm grip and steers her away from the scene. Her back hits the exposed wall with a soft _thump_. “What are you doing here?”

“Minding my own business,” she whispers, tugging her arm from him. His palm slips against her skin, leaving a wet trail of blood. Caroline makes a face.

“Were you…following me?”

“My life doesn’t revolve around you, Mr Devil,” she says, discreetly trying to wipe her arm against a tattered posted behind her.

“Mr Devil, huh?”

“Because you’re calling me Miss Forbes.”

“What were you doing here?”

“Just walking home, if you can believe me. I don’t always stumble into these things deliberately, you know.” Caroline narrows her eyes. “Now will you tell me who those guys are?”

“That’s nothing to do with you,” he replies curtly.

“If they’re from the Japanese gang, then yes it does.” She would cross her arms but Daredevil hasn’t left her much space to do so. “But it seems you’ve completely forgotten about our deal.”

He turns his face aside. “There were other things to take care of.”

“Yeah? And how long were you expecting me to sit at home twiddling my thumbs, waiting for you to deign me with your scraps?”

He lets out an unexpected grin. “Somehow I don’t think you’re the kind to sit around twiddling your thumbs.”

“That’s not the point. Is our bargain off then? If so, then it’s a shame.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I know you vigilantes don’t like the public eye but have you ever considered the benefits of good publicity? Ever think of how you could leverage it so that one day, you wouldn’t have to put on a mask anymore because there would be no one left to beat up? Isn’t that your end goal here?” Daredevil remains silent. “Or do you get something else out of this?” she adds slyly. “A certain kind of… _pleasure_?”

“Our deal isn’t over,” he replies hastily, taking a step back. Is it her or does he seem flustered?

“Prove it then.”

Daredevil bites back a groan of frustration. “ _Fine_. The Japanese aren’t just your typical gang. They seem to have…corporate backing. That’s why I’ve only been able to get hold of the small fish. The big players sit up there.” He gestures at the concrete skyscrapers looming above them.

“ _Corporate_ backing? That doesn’t make any sense.” Her mind whirs, weighing out the possibilities. Big corporates usually have their own shady stuff going on, but why would they be funding a low-life drug-running gang? It couldn’t possibly be profitable enough to outweigh the risks. “Unless…”

“Mind sharing with the class?”

Caroline gently pushes him off, slipping away in the space created. “It could be nothing. I need to do some research first. I’ll be in touch.”

“What-”

She hefts her purse onto her shoulder and turns around to say, “You know where to find me.”

* * *

 

Klaus works rapidly through the document, fingers running across the Braille transcription. His enhanced senses were capable of “reading” by identifying the raised bumps, but it is faster using touch. The document is a statement by one of Eliot’s neighbours, more or less confirming the landlord’s and the construction company’s suspect behaviour. Klaus pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

The phone on Stefan’s desk rings. His friend is out interviewing tenants living in other buildings owned by Pearsons Holdings. It’s obvious the issue is bigger than just one apartment building, and if Stefan’s legwork is correct, it involves quite a few prominent blocks of Hell’s Kitchen. Klaus navigates easily towards the desk, the ringing of the phone leading his way as clearly as a beacon in the dark.

“Hello?”

“Stefan?”

Klaus recognises her voice instantly. “Caroline, it’s Klaus.”

“Oh.” Her voice deflates by a margin. “I was hoping to talk to Stefan.” Klaus finds himself momentarily irritated at his friend—has Caroline been talking to Stefan all this while? And why hasn’t Stefan told him? Talking on the phone is one of the few times Klaus is at a disadvantage. While he can discern voice inflections, reading someone’s pulse rate or body language is impossible.

“He’s out. Can I take a message?”

There’s a pause. Klaus can practically feel her thinking. Caroline exhales. “Actually, you’ll do.”

He can’t help letting out a small chuckle. “I feel so special.”

“Can we meet? Today evening?”

“Let me check my calendar.” Klaus flips through his diary, stalling for time. There’s no denying that Caroline’s been making headway in the case, and the more time she spends with both Daredevil and Klaus Mikaelson, the closer she is to uncovering the truth. Ever since he’d realised how closely connected the Japanese gang were with the Eliot case, he’d been staying away from her. Or trying to, rather. For with her uncanny nose for trouble, Caroline had dashed into the Devil’s orbit, unravelling his sense of control, and making him agree to do things he didn’t want to. He keeps replaying their alleyway encounter, and the things he’d almost revealed. She’s probably figured out the link already. Klaus has an inkling of what this meeting is going to be about.

The self-preserving part of him that has always pushed away everyone (and until recently Stefan) strongly urges him to say no. But there’s another part—a part he’d thought he’d successfully repressed—that enjoys her headstrong nature and her passion for truth and justice.

“Turns out I’m free today. Can you come into the office?”

“Sure, Klaus. Uh, thanks.”

Well, he’s fucked.

* * *

 

Salvatore & Mikaelson is smaller than she’d predicted. Whatever furniture’s there is old, the machines seem second-hand, and the window blind is broken. The cloying scent of fruit fills the space from the pile of thank-you baskets and hampers in the corner. A table fan swings back and forth, pushing air reluctantly through its rusted blades. At least the sign on the door is nice—large and handsomely framed.

Klaus is sitting at his desk, sleeves rolled up, eating from a takeaway box. “Sorry, I haven’t eaten today,” he says once she makes her presence known. “Please, have some.” Caroline, who hadn’t realised how famished she was, grabs a pair of chopsticks and digs in enthusiastically.

“So I’m assuming this is about the Eliot case?”

“Yes. Midland Circle, to be precise.”

“Go ahead.” Caroline fills him in on her multiple attempts to gather information on Midland. He eats methodically, eyes on her, his food never missing his mouth.

“I couldn’t figure out their agenda until this, um, source mentioned how the new gang in town, the Japanese, have corporate backing.”

Klaus carefully wipes his mouth with a tissue and asks, “And your source is?”

She crosses her arms. “ _Obviously_ , I can’t tell you. First rule of journalism.”

The corners of his mouth curl up slightly. “Sure. I understand. Why would Midland be backing this gang?”

“I have a theory.” Caroline pulls out a couple of files from her bag and jabs at the relevant blueprints. “The last time I spoke to Stefan he mentioned how Midland, through Pearsons and other subsidiaries, was involved in various eviction cases across prominent blocks of Hell’s Kitchen. See, here, here and here.”

“When did Stefan tell you this?” he inquires sharply.

“I’ve been calling and bugging him. Finally, he let it slip. Look, I would’ve gotten there eventually.” She spreads her palms. “Easier and less time-consuming if you guys keep me in the loop. Just sayin’.”

“I guess even Stefan’s realised it’s hard to say no to you.”

Resolutely ignoring her warming cheeks, Caroline continues. “So Midland’s after property, right? Prime property. I reckon they’re using the gang to do their dirty work, harass residents, and bring the neighbourhood prices down. Meanwhile, the Japanese get free reign to carry out shady dealings on their turf.”

“Until Midland swoops in and wipes the slate clean. What are they planning?”

“That I still have to find out,” she replies through a mouthful of pad thai. “Every time I request Midland for an interview I get blocked.”

Klaus scratches his stubble. “I might have a way.” Sliding open a drawer, he brandishes two thick embossed envelopes. “My friend from law school works for Midland. He was kind enough to get me invites to their annual charity gala. I was thinking of going with Stefan, but…”

“Oh.” _Is he asking me out? No, don’t be crazy_. “Good idea. We’ll get to schmooze with the upper management and find out what they’re up to, right?”

“Yes, that. Obviously.” Klaus sets his elbows on the table. “It’s a black tie event.” The muscles of his bare forearm bunch and flex with every movement. “Uh, I’m sure I can scrounge up something,” she manages.

Feeling bad for ogling him without his knowledge, Caroline changes the subject. “Which law school did you and your friend go to?”

“Columbia. That’s where I met Stefan.”

“Columbia, huh? You could’ve had your own corner office by now. Why this?”

“I grew up in Hell’s Kitchen, you know.” Klaus removes his tinted glasses, folds them up, and stashes them in his front pocket. His face looks oddly naked. “It was a rough place. My dad—let’s just say I grew up an orphan. I wouldn’t be who I am if not for the people around me. People like Mrs. Fell; the system just doesn’t give a shit about them. And when you can do the things I can do, and don’t help them out and make their lives even a tiny bit better…then why am I here?” He blinks and clears his throat roughly. “Sorry.”

“No, no, no. Don’t apologise. That’s admirable, really.” Caroline fiddles with the clasp of her purse. _Damn it_. Asking him about Columbia wasn’t supposed to make her feel even more drawn towards him! “The city needs more like you,” she says. Daredevil’s one, but she’s not sure whether Klaus would appreciate the comparison. While they might differ on the method, they both have a deep passion for justice that Caroline finds really, really…attractive.

_Oh god._

Well, she’s fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if I should continue! Reviews and comments are much appreciated :)


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